


The Queen and Her Sorcerer

by butterflybooks



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflybooks/pseuds/butterflybooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur created Albion. But they maintain it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Queen and Her Sorcerer

It is three days before Merlin makes it back to Camelot. Not all of it is because of the journey time. He comes back to a sleeping palace; he feels raw from travelling and crying but as he gets down from his horse he catches a guard looking at him and says:

“I need to see the Queen.”

And he must speak with enough authority that the guard forgets his position because he’s off running into the palace. Merlin pauses before he follows, nothing seems quite real at the moment, but the eerie silence of Camelot even less so. Even at night, the place was always… well. Being attacked usually, he thinks with a wry smile. The pale freshness of a sky nearing dawn hangs above him; it’s been here for a long time, this feeling of being connected to everything’s magic but it’s like his whole being has been woken up. Everything feels…

More.

Why on earth did he have to choose now to wake up?

-

Gwen is woken by her maid.

“Your highness?”

It still sounds odd. It’s been years. It feels strange waking to an empty bed as well. Strange how you get used to some things but not others.

She can see from the window’s pale light that it’s too early for her to be woken. She feels the grip of panic - the burdens of ruling alone.

She clutches at her maid’s wrist. “Why have you woken me?”

“There is,” the girl pauses. “Merlin is at the gates. Or downstairs. The guard wasn’t quite sure…”

“Merlin?” She lets out a breath, not just from the reprieve from panic. She’s been waiting for Merlin for days. He can help. He has power beyond any of their wildest dreams. He could tell her of Arthur’s final hours. He- 

She could really use a friend right now.

“Send him up.” 

“My lady?”

“Merlin. Send him up.”

“But you are not-” The girl gestures, indicating Gwen’s state of undress. 

“I said send him up.”

The girl stutters. “Of- of course, your highness.” She runs out and Gwen immediately regrets her curtness. The girl’s right, of course. She shouldn’t be inviting a man up to her rooms at this time of night. There will be talk.

She knows these things are true. She tries very hard to care.

Arthur would have laughed…

Merlin staggers through the doors; he looks a wreck. Rumpled clothes, mud-covered and a tear stained face. Tear stained is too delicate a term, though, she knows. She’s cried the same tears.

She hasn’t been able to cry them as much as she needs to of course. She’s the Queen now.

They look at each other.

And then, like they’re both standing on a precipice, they fall towards each other.

They sob together until Gwen feels wrung from crying, her face buried in Merlin’s neck as he presses into her shoulder.

It’s nearly dawn before they break apart. At some point they’ve moved to the bed – the bed that was Arthur’s, and then it was both of theirs and now it’s hers. They don’t break apart so much as inch away, raw and exposed, but only to each other.

“Gwen-” he starts in a broken voice.

“Hush,” she says, pulling him in again, and says into his temple. “I’ve repealed the laws on magic.”

And then Merlin cries different tears.

-

The bell tolls to signal the start of a day. Gwen breathes in, composes herself and is a Queen.

She knows what must be done. 

“Merlin,” she says. 

He looks up at her, blinking into the sun. She wants to keep him safe. Doesn’t want to tell him. But she has a Kingdom to run.

“It’s Gwaine.” 

-

The thing is: Gwaine is not dead.

After Percival had given up tracking Morgana and come back to carry Gwaine’s body back for burial (and after the haze of grief and revenge had faded enough to show him what his priorities should always have been) he had found Gwaine… not quite dead. He had brought him back to Camelot and Gaius had looked him over, been stumped. Percival had wept for Arthur and the Kingdom that he had been serving, pledged willing allegiance to the new Queen.

And Gwaine… had remained not quite dead.

A faint pulse but a bloodless face. A whisper of breath but no hint of movement. Gwaine’s features but no bark of laughter.

Gaius remained stumped. Gwaine remained in stasis. And Camelot remained in mourning – though for how many they couldn’t be sure.

-

Merlin hears all this with a stoic expression (she wonders if anything will ever touch him the same way) and then says, with grim determination but no hope at all:

“Take me to him.”

She does.

The Knights – she thinks, for lack of anything more constructive to do – are standing vigil around Gwaine’s bedside. Under different circumstances, Gwen is certain there would be celebrations as Merlin enters. As it is, there is a certain lightening of expression, grim nods and bows of deference to her. Merlin embraces Gaius almost absent-mindedly but keeps his eyes on Gwaine.

“How long has he been like this?”

“Nearing four days,” Leon replies.

Merlin nudges people out of the way until he makes it to the head of where Gwaine is lying – a makeshift bed in the centre of Gaius’ medical room. He puts a hand on Gwaine’s forehead, closes his eyes and performs checks that Gwen is sure Gaius has gone through a hundred times before, but she allows Merlin his hesitation.

He nods in confirmation.

“Merlin?” Gaius questions. How odd, Gwen thinks, to see Gaius deferring to Merlin.

“He’s.” Merlin hesitates. “Um.”

“Yes?”

“He’s not. Ah. This is going to be difficult.”

“Merlin-” Gaius rests a hand on his back, as though he’s the only one who can see how tired Merlin is. “There’s no shame if-”

“No.” Merlin says. “Too many people have died.” He sighs. “Gwen,” he says without looking at her, resting his hands on Gwaine’s shoulders. “Try and keep any of them from killing me on the spot, will you?”

There’s a ripple of confusion that doesn’t make it quite all the way before Merlin’s eyes glow gold. Shock freezes them – which has the advantage of negating the need for Gwen to stop any of them moving to stop him. Merlin is making a sound that might be words or might be the sound his soul makes. Or both, possibly. Gwen still isn’t sure how all this works.

When Merlin is… done? Probably? He moves away, mutters an incantation and seems to collapse in on himself. There is stunned, watchful silence.

“My lady?” Leon asks, his eyes on Merlin and hand on his sword’s hilt.

Percival still has his eyes on Gwaine and the rest of the Knights’ gazes are flitting between the two. 

“It’s fine; thank you Leon.” She is still watching Gwaine. Merlin can drive off an army, surely he can revive one man. 

Not Arthur… But. Give us this one. Please.

Gwaine remains motionless and still. That awful stillness.

Merlin’s head hangs.

How much can one man take? How much can I take?

“Fucking hell.”

It is a small intonation, a very small movement – but it is Gwaine.

The room gives a sigh of relief. And Gwen closes her eyes, thinks: Arthur?

Even though she knows that’s ridiculous.

-

Gwaine is not quite the same. But none of them are. And Camelot never will be. So maybe that’s as it should be.  
-

There is perhaps a two month resting period.

Gwen occupies her time by repealing the bans on magic, reassuring her people and getting through the days.

Merlin occupies his time helping her, being resigned to stares and whispers and answering a lot of questions.

The letters came when the news of Arthur’s death spread, the letters of condolence at least, some tinged with curiosity or offers that she ignored, but most spoke of genuine grief at Arthur’s passing.

(And if some of the others contained a worry for the kingdom at Gwen ruling alone, well. She ignored those as well.)

Two months. She hasn’t quite started to show yet, but she feels the spark of life that Arthur left behind growing inside her and she holds it close to herself – a tiny, blossoming life.

-

Merlin cannot walk through the streets of Camelot as he once did but, truth be told, he’s not sure he wants to. It was nice, he supposes, to not be stared at in the way he is now. But he used to run through the streets with packages for Gaius, or orders from Arthur or – far more often, he supposes – off to stop a threat to Camelot. He used to bump into people and be groaned at and waved off – just Merlin, falling over his own feet again. 

He will never be ‘just Merlin’ again. The Queen has managed to convince the populace that magic itself is not a threat for the most part – due to her immense popularity and reasoned arguments – but there are still rumours. Rumours that Merlin’s enchanted her or… well, there are other rumours too.

He doesn’t run any more, and he doesn’t feel like he’s smiled in a very long time.

-

"I'm pregnant."

Gwen is down in the kitchens, which she really shouldn't be, and Merlin is polishing boots, which - as her advisor - he should not be doing either. Both of them have agreed to keep this a secret.

Merlin drops the cloth and the boot that he's holding and rises out of his chair, shock etched across all lines of his face. And the joy starts small and spreads across his face - beaming and iridescent as he swoops her off her feet and spins and she's laughing, she's laughing because she's pregnant and Arthur is not dead, not really, and Merlin is happy and she is happy with him.

He sets her down abruptly. "Oh God. Are you OK? We should check with Gaius. We should definitely check with Gaius." He half pulls her before turning, his face still joyful but with that odd wise, slightly rueful look he gets sometimes. "Gwen," he says to her. "Arthur's child."

She hasn't let herself feel the happiness, she realises. The hope, but not the happiness. Perhaps she needed this. Her friend.

"Arthur's child," she agrees, and she can't stop herself from smiling.

"And yours," Merlin says.

She will have to stop smiling at some point. "And mine."


End file.
